


you, the scent that makes me drunk

by itsgameover



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Husbands in love, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28564914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsgameover/pseuds/itsgameover
Summary: Carrying your husband home each time he gets wasted. That too is a love language
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 54
Collections: EXO Bakery - 2021





	you, the scent that makes me drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Home4U the Bakery Round, Prompt #302!  
> title inspired by taeyeon's wine.  
> thanks to my hype buddy who kept me from throwing the fic away and instead told me it was wonderful, M you are the real MVP <3  
> hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it  
> thank you mods for hosting this wonderful round of little joys <3

“Don’t touch me!” he says, words slurred, “I want my Seok, where is my Seok?!” 

Minseok feels his face heat, the people around stare at him with quipped eyebrows. 

It’s a warm July night that is best spent in a place like this, an elegant rooftop bar with music playing loud enough to make people raise their voices when they speak. It’s a new establishment, the pride and joy, the crown jewel of the Kim&Kim commercial conglomerate, overlooking the beautifully illuminated capital city of the country. 

It’s Seoul and it’s late at night. Couples drink and get wasted until one has to carry the other… that is if someone is a lightweight drinker. And that is the case of Kim Minseok, married to the adorable smiley Jongdae who gets touchy when he is drunk and who also can’t hold his drink well and starts to sweat and curse and fall all over the place. 

“I’m Seok,” he explains to a concerned bartender, holding Jongdae by the waist. Seulgi, the manager and their longtime friend, vouches for him and so the bar lets him go without fear of him being a rapist or a killer who took an unsuspecting victim. 

As if him and the drunken idiot weren’t the owners of the entire place. 

Nevertheless, he appreciates the effort of doubting people’s motivations when an unconscious idiot is involved. 

“Seokkie, Seokkie,” Jongdae mutters when they reach the elevator.

He turns around abruptly, enveloping Minseok in a very loose embrace. He giggles against his neck, fingers caressing his nape. Minseok smiles, his arms holding the drunk lovebird with a deathly grip, and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Seokkie!” Jongdae screams, leaning back so much that he almost falls, but there are Minseok’s arms to catch him, ending with their chests pressed together, Jongdae’s back against the mirrored wall of the elevator. 

“Seokkie…” Jongdae whispers, seductively, hands travelling down Minseok’s back until they grip his ass. Minseok forgot his husband was a sexual predator kind of drunk. 

“Dae, don’t,” he admonishes. Jongdae pouts but doesn’t let go, he just presses closer and closer. 

But Minseok is above 30 and strong willed so he manages to dodge Jongdae’s poor attempt at a kiss and instead just hugs him, moving from side to side as if he was nursing a grown stubborn baby. 

It has always been like this, Jongdae racing through the drinks catalogue to keep up with Minseok. Jongdae said he was conscious enough to reject him if he so wanted. And it happened enough times for Minseok to believe it as a truth rather than as a horny drunk lie. So, free of inhibitions because no man is immune to alcohol, Minseok would enjoy a sloppy make out session and maybe a handjob or two throughout the night in a small dorm that smelled of humidity. 

Now they arrive at the penthouse with their clothes mostly on, even if Jongdae attempted to open Minseok’s pants in the backseat of their car, whining because he wanted to ‘give attention to little Seokkie’. And Jongdae is holding on to Minseok’s neck for dear life, humming a melody he heard on the radio. 

“Let’s dance, Seokkie, let’s dance!” he screams, clearly sobered (at least a little bit) by the three bottles of water that Minseok made him drink during the ride home. 

“There is no music,” Minseok notes, walking towards his intoxicated husband with a smile on his lips. Jongdae looks ethereal under the moonlight that illuminates the room, smiling without inhibitions, without fear, looking younger. 

And Minseok feels like he was still a college student falling in love when he approaches him and Jongdae places a hand on his waist and moves the other until he can thread his fingers with Minseok’s. 

“When have we needed music, Seokkie?” he says and leans in for a kiss that doesn’t miss. 

In college Jongdae danced on the green campus, drunk and pretending he was a musical actor. They studied business, but Jongdae always had a penchant for music. Perhaps that’s why when he inherited his part of the company and Minseok had just started his own, before the fusion and the wedding and the fuss of it all, he invested so much in the entertainment world, funding small companies with rookie idol groups and then buying the company all together. 

Minseok was always the finances one, taking over his family’s bank after his father retired to Jeju, and his own little company became a monster with time. Investment in engineering and architecture, the mechanical side of the world was his favourite thing. 

But he was always in love with Jongdae, always discussing with him things that were company secrets. So a fusion was not only plausible but necessary, embrace and extend. Jongdae proposed the fusion and then the wedding and Minseok wouldn’t have been able to say no if he wanted because Jongdae did all of that with four empty beer bottles by his side. He collapsed a minute later and Minseok carried him home, like he always did. 

“I love you,” Jongdae whispers, voice slurred by alcohol and sleep, head resting on Minseok’s shoulder, his breath making Minseok get goosebumps. 

“I love you too,” he whispers back, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, almost certain that Jongdae falls asleep on his shoulder a second later, waltzing like they did on their wedding day. 

In the morning, Minseok’s back pain makes him complain that he won’t carry him home the next time he gets drunk. Jongdae, hungover but happy, back hugs him. Both of them know it’s a lie. 

Carrying your husband home each time he gets wasted. That too is a love language


End file.
